A Change In the Weather
by Scribere Est Agere
Summary: Crash, bang, boom. A Law & Order 100 Plus Challenge.


**Title:** A Change In the Weather  
**Author: **Scribere Est Agere  
**Pairing:** Goren/Eames  
**Spoilers:** Season 7  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** These characters do not belong to me.

**Summary:** The odds of being struck by lightning are approximately 1 in 800,000. He wonders if the odds of kissing Eames are a little better

/

Rain, rain,  
Go away.  
Come again  
Some other day.

/

It is raining the first time he thinks about kissing her.

Well, he's thought about kissing her before, but just as a passing fancy, a whim that has flickered through his consciousness so quickly it was mainly dreamlike. But this time, _this time_ is different. This time he knows he is actually going to make it happen, somehow.

It is mid-August, hotter than hell with a hot still air. They are stuck shoulder to shoulder in a small dank apartment with two dead bodies and lots of flies. The stench is overwhelming. He has his shirt sleeves pushed up high and she is in a blue tank top. Everything sticks to them. Eames is grumpy because her hair won't stay out of her face. Bobby watches her blow dark strands up and away from eyes repeatedly and he desperately wants to hold them back for her. He also wants to ask if she has a…what is it called? Barrette? Clip?

"Do you need a bobby pin?" he deadpans and she glares at him.

"So funny."

They take a break and stand together on the sidewalk, slightly dazed, breathing in air that is only marginally cooler and fresher than inside. Bobby looks up at low, heavy clouds. There is a breeze just starting to pick up, kicking around pieces of paper and moving Eames' hair away from her face.

"You want something to drink?" he asks but before she can answer it starts raining. Big, fat drops that seem mainly dreamlike. They keep falling, bigger, fatter. Eames sighs in delight and tips her face back and closes her eyes, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. One splashes on her cheek.

And, just like that, he wants to kiss her.

/

The Empire State Building gets struck by lightning on the average of 500 a year.

/

This time it is late September and there is a thunderstorm coming.

They are sitting in the car, peering outside at blackness and whipping winds. Trees bend and snap. Eames curls her hands in her lap.

"Crash, bang, boom," she murmurs. He looks at her, eyebrows raised.

She twists her mouth in that way she does.

"It's what we used to say to each other when we were kids. We used to yell it over the thunder, louder than the thunder, so we wouldn't be scared."

Bobby loves learning these little details. He files them away under "Things I Love About Eames" and knows he will pore over them, late at night, in the coming weeks.

"You can yell it now, if it makes you feel better."

She swallows, audibly.

A flash of lightning followed by thunder so loud Eames startles, then laughs, nervously.

"Shit. That was close."

"One mile."

She rolls her eyes.

"Seriously. Count the number of seconds between the lightning and the thunder, then divide by two. The answer is how many miles away the lightning is.

"Gee. Whatever would I do without you?" She's joking and smiling, but he can see and hear something else behind her bravado. She holds his gaze for a beat too long and he chuckles nervously and shrugs.

"I don't know—"

When the next flash of lightning coincides perfectly with a sharp clap of thunder she jumps and makes to cover her ears (we're in the middle of the storm now god she's adorable, he thinks) and he reaches over and takes her hand, holds it tight. She lets him.

/

Late October and he's in Tates, nearly out of his mind. But, even nearly out of his mind, he thinks about _her_. He thinks about her a lot, and realizes at some point during his drug-induced fog that he _always_ thinks about Eames a lot. She has taken up some kind of permanent residence in his brain and he has become so used to her presence there that it takes a concentrated effort to step back, be objective, and think, Yeah, I'm thinking about Eames again.

When he gets out things are not good between them, not good at all. Everything is messed up, off kilter, both uncomfortably sharp and disturbingly unfocused, and he can't find steady footing. The weather has changed, too, suddenly, cruelly. It's cold, bitterly, and he's not ready for winter. He can't find his heavy coat, or muffler, which irritates him. He's being _shrunk_ on a regular basis and the doctor is forcing him to talk about shit he'd rather not investigate at all, thanks very much.

He wants to crawl into bed and pull up the covers and hibernate for about six months. Yeah.

He also wants her to join him in his cave.

/

A snowflake can take up to an hour to reach the ground.

/

Things get better for them in February, miserable as the weather is.

And it's always about death and always about bodies and murder and the horrible things people do to each other. He hangs onto her, emotionally, as much as he can. Really, what else can he do?

"Holy crap it's cold!" Her breath billows around her face. She has snow in her hair and some on her eyelashes. Her nose is red and starting to run. She sniffs. She rubs it with her glove. She looks at him like, _What_?

She looks gorgeous.

/

What did the tornado say to the other tornado?

You turn me on!

/

March comes in and goes out like a lion this year and the wind is _unbelievable_. Kite-flying weather, he thinks. I should buy a kite, he thinks. He wonders what kind of kite Eames would like. He remembers the octopus-shaped one he saw ages ago and for some reason thinks she would find it amusing.

He also remembers what he recently read about octopuses and their interesting sex lives replete with stalking, passionate groping, and sneaky males.

He watches Eames question the police officer as she simultaneously attempts to keep her long jacket from flapping wildly around her legs, and thinks _I need to get out more_.

/

Early May is cold, unseasonably so, but they finally get a reprieve on the 22nd, a Thursday. It is suddenly soft and warm again and they spend the day chasing down three leads that lead, well, nowhere. But Bobby remains upbeat and Eames follows his _lead_.

Late in the day they stop for coffee and sip it, tentatively, in a small, secluded park.

Bobby sniffs, then sniffs again.

"That bad, huh?"

"No. Rain's coming."

"Oh good grief. Now you can _smell_ rain? Why am I even surprised?"

"Some scientists believe the moisture of impending rain makes your nose more sensitive."

"Huh." She looks at him. "My granddad used to feel it in his bones. Sometimes my knees ache before a thunderstorm."

"Good to know." He looks at her knees. "Do they ache now?"

"A little."

"Good to know."

"Maybe rain is coming, after all."

"What would I do without you?" he jokes, but doesn't. They look at each other.

_Huh_, he thinks.

_Crash, bang, boom_, he thinks.

/

It is raining the first time he kisses her.

May 22nd. Outside Jasper Wolf's apartment, 5:34 p.m. They pause, watching the skies, then watching each other. Bobby feels the drop first, then Eames does and she smiles, wide.

"It's raining," she says.

So it is.

"You were right," she says.

He nods.

"So were you," he says.

She points to her knees.

Then he kisses her.

/

_Fin_


End file.
